


Tying the Knots

by fannishliss



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Travelling with the Doctor any day could be any time.  But all Rose is hoping for is Valentine’s Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tying the Knots

title: Tying the Knots  
author: [](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/)**fannishliss**  
words: 3166  
rating: pg  
pairing: Rose/Nine.  Also Jack friendship

Summary : Travelling with the Doctor any day could be any time.  But all Rose is hoping for is Valentine’s Day.

This was inspired by [](http://bleodswean.livejournal.com/profile)[**bleodswean**](http://bleodswean.livejournal.com/)'s [kiss fest](http://bleodswean.livejournal.com/137567.html).  Happy Voluntyings Day!

\------

  
It was Valentine's Day. Rose wanted romance - a slow dance, a kiss, but that was never gonna happen, was it.

Waking up that morning, she’d realized the date — at least, the date she’d got to in the five-year diary she’d kept since she saw how easy it would be to simply lose track.

Then that familiar heavy feeling set in around her heart like a stone — the feeling she was determined not to acknowledge, much less put a name to.   She hoped the Doctor knew how she felt about him without her having to burden him with inadequate words about human emotions.  She was never gonna leave him and that was that.

Still, she’d paused last night, as was her habit, documenting her memories of their most recent adventure by jotting down a few keywords in the diary, and noticed she’d come around again to the end of the second week in February, the season of fevers.  It meant nothing, just a number, not relative to anything more than the months she’d spent traveling with him. Still, it made Rose sigh, despite her best efforts. She put some little dangly red hearts in her ears, painted her fingernails pink, and smiled at her reflection.

As soon as she walked into the galley, Jack noticed that something was up.

“Morning, bright eyes!” he called cheerfully.  Jack always got something good for breakfast out of the Tardis cupboards.  He favored the continental pastries with coffee and sometimes fruit.  Rose had always liked porridge, and it never ceased to amuse her, pulling a bowl of steaming hot porridge directly out of a cupboard.  The Tardis’s manipulation of the sequence of events was pretty much indistinguishable from magic.  The end.

Rose lightly sugared her porridge and poured in a dollop of cream, smiling brightly at Jack.  Too brightly.  Dammit. Once Jack got his teeth in something he never let go.

“Don’t you miss holidays?” she said, wistfully, forestalling his questions.

“You name it, he’ll take you there,” Jack reassured her lightly.

Not this holiday, Rose thought to herself.  “Tell me your favorite holiday, Jack,” Rose asked, to distract herself.

A momentary sadness flickered like a shadow across Jack’s face like it sometimes did, but faded as he deliberately focused on Rose’s question.

“Well, I’ve never liked Annual Gift Days,” Jack said. “Too much pressure, too many tchotchkes.  Feast Days are okay, but usually too much work for those preparing them.  I used to like fireworks… not so much any more.  I love Costume Days — when you can get creative and let your imagination run free.  But I guess my favorite is Loving Day, when you make sure to tell the people you love how much you care.”

“Jack, you are just a big softie!” Rose exclaimed with a grin.  “But I bet you don’t usually wait until Loving Day,” she said, teasing.

“Sometimes I do,” he said, lowering his chin and batting his eyelashes. His blush was real, though, and Rose saw through him.

“Whoever you love is very lucky,” Rose said.  She was done with her porridge all of a sudden, it wouldn’t go past the lump in her throat.  She stood to put her porridge away and go find the Doctor, get started with the day.

“I can’t wait till the next Loving Day,” Jack said, smiling.

“Me neither,” Rose said, and impulsively dropped a kiss on top of Jack’s head.

She planned on making her exit, but Jack grabbed her hand.

“Thanks, Rose,” he said, heartfelt.  “For being you.  For helping me remember how to be me.”

“Jack,” she breathed, overcome, wanting to tell Jack how much she loved him and valued his friendship, but struggling to find the right words.

The Doctor walked in.  As usual, his big presence filled the room.  Jack coughed and stood.

“Morning, Doc,” Jack said, and fled.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, a little cool.

Rose took a deep breath.  “Jack and I were talking about our favorite holidays,” she said, dismissively.

“Bet Jack would love a Jubilee — giant reset button,” the Doctor said.

Rose didn’t think that was quite fair.  Jack was trying really hard to live down his mistakes.  The Doctor was no saint either by his own admission.  Rose didn’t say any of that.

“He likes Loving Day,” she started, still feeling a little emotional about Jack’s touching words.

“I just bet,” the Doctor muttered.

“Oh, you!” Rose snapped, frowning.

The Doctor’s mouth set in a prim little line.  Rose hated it when he got like that.

“It’s nice sometimes to have a regular conversation, you know,” she said, feeling a little mean herself. “Not like I can ask you what your favorite holiday is without you launching off on some festival you’ve been to that lasted a thousand years or something.”

“mm” the Doctor replied, opening and closing the Tardis’s cupboards.  Apparently she wasn’t serving up what he wanted.

Rose huffed in annoyance, but tried to let it go.  The Doctor was a little annoying sometimes.  That was okay. It was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

“Where are we going today then?” Rose said.

“Haven’t decided,” the Doctor said.  The Tardis had finally provided him with his customary toast and tea and he was nibbling fixedly, passing the time till the awkward atmosphere dissipated.

“Thousand year festivals are probably not that bad,” Rose tried.  “I mean, you’d think they’d get pretty good at it.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor said, swallowing his tea.

What a miserable breakfast, Rose thought to herself.  It can only go up from here.

The Doctor was subdued in the console room, quietly making some minor adjustments until Jack wandered in.

“So, you and Rose are looking for a love feast, hm?” the Doctor muttered.

Jack froze. “Uh, not that I’m aware?” he said.

“It’s not really,” Rose began, then started over.  “You know I keep a five-year diary, just to remember things by,” Rose said, blushing.  “Just happens that the diary marks today as February 14. Valentines Day.  You know — hearts, roses, chocolate, romantic dinners, dancing, whatnot.”

“Always the dancing,” the Doctor grumbled under his breath.

“Sounds like fun,” Jack said cautiously.

The Doctor’s jaw tightened but he didn’t say anything.

“I think you want New New York, 2952, the third Romanticism,” the Doctor said.

“Yeah?” Rose said, hopefully.

“Go to the wardrobe.  The Tardis will find you something appropriate.”

Rose loved the wardrobe.  She didn’t go that often, usually preferring her own comfy clothes, but every so often the Doctor suggested it.  The Tardis’s resources were of course infinite.  Rose sometimes wondered if the Tardis paradoxically provided her with things she’d choose for herself someday — shoes that fit her perfectly and frocks that suited her taste to a tee.

This time was no different.  Rose found a beautiful black dress, cinched in at the waist, with bright red accents. The points of the handkerchief hemline floated delightfully as she walked.  This was going to be so much fun, no matter what the Doctor would or wouldn’t do.  He’d danced with her that time around the console — maybe he would again.  She was determined to have a good time.  There was always Jack; she knew she could count on him.

The Doctor hadn’t changed, and Jack always looked great, so when she presented herself, the Doctor opened the doors and out they went.

The night air was cool but well above freezing.  Walking at a reasonable pace, her chiffon wrap doubled around her shoulders, Rose didn’t feel chilled in the short time it took to get to the party palace.

“This time is famous for their grand celebrations of Voluntying Day,” the Doctor said, offering his psychic paper as a credit slip to take care of the cover charge for the three of them as they went through the door.  Rose had discovered that in most human eras the Doctor had an unlimited line of credit, despite the fact he carried no currency.

“Ooh, ribbons!” Jack said and darted over to a vendor who was selling a vast assortment of ribbons in every color, tied into elaborate knots.

“What are they?” Rose asked the Doctor as they followed.

“It’s like Earth’s language of flowers, from medieval Europe,” the Doctor explained.  “The colors and knots are symbolic.  Different combinations yield a sophisticated array of different meanings.”

“Like, yellow roses mean friendship, but red roses are for passion,” Rose said.

“That’s the basic idea,” the Doctor agreed.

Jack was poring over the ribbons, picking some out, only to discard them for others.  He hid the ribbons in his hands when he noticed Rose looking.

“You’re not supposed to look until midnight — then everyone will rush around, tying ribbons on their loved ones’ arms,” Jack explained.  “You tie your friends first and your lovers last,” he winked.

“Fun!” Rose said.  But awkward for strangers and wallflowers, she thought to herself.

“We’ll choose later,” the Doctor told the vendor.  Jack was too absorbed to make his choices quickly, so Rose and the Doctor wandered on.

The dance floor was packed.  Around the edges of the party palace were chairs and small tables.  Waiters circulated with nibbles and drinks, all included in the cover charge.

“Will you dance with me, Doctor?” Rose asked.  It could happen, she thought.

The Doctor looked away.  “Wouldn’t you prefer to wait for Jack?”

“No,” Rose said.  “What gave you that idea?”

The Doctor shook his head.  “Even though he’s from your future, he’s still human.  You two have the most in common.”

Rose stared at him.  Was he serious? Could he really be as jealous of Jack as he seemed right now?

“Doctor, if Jack decided to leave the Tardis, what do you think I’d do?” Rose asked. “Leave with him?”

“No,” he admitted.

“I love Jack, but as a friend,” Rose said. “He’s special to me.  He needs someone to believe in him, and then he just shines, yeah?” Rose took the Doctor by the arm. “I know you know what I mean.  You pretend to be all stern with him, but secretly, you like him, too, right?”

The Doctor nodded, tightly.

“Why don’t you want to admit it?” Rose asked.

The Doctor folded his arms and looked around the room. “If I tell you anything I’m admitting, that’s admitting it, isn’t it,” he said.

“You are as stubborn as a mule!” Rose said, with a little stomp, but she was grinning.  “I’m going to go buy ribbons. I hope there’s a ribbon for muleheadedness!”

The Doctor mimed ass’s ears, as Rose went back to rejoin Jack.

Jack covered his ribbons as soon as he noticed Rose.

“Will you explain these to me?” she asked.

Jack dove in — and it was really complicated.  Some of the knots were easy, because they resembled flowers Rose had heard of and meanings she understood.  But combined with the colors, the meanings were varied and subtle.  The ribbon vendor had a machine that could weave custom knots out of two or more colors, so there was no end of variation.  Jack secreted his ribbons away in his pocket and went out on to the dance floor to ply his own wares.  Rose watched him go, always impressed by his optimism.

It was easy to choose a ribbon for Jack — a yellow rose knot for friendship — a meaning that was prevalent in Rose’s day and persisted into this era and apparently into Jack’s.  Rose added royal blue ribbands for fidelity, white for purity, and royal violet for courtliness.  Jack was a loyal friend and a gentleman and Rose knew his friendship would last to the end.

Rose picked out a mother’s knot for Jackie.  It was a complex knot, interwoven out of many different colors with a central knot of gold, representing the bountiful qualities of a mother’s love.   Rose hoped Jackie would appreciate all the meanings she hoped to convey.

Rose looked over the knots already on the table, but couldn’t find one that expressed her feelings for the Doctor.  She wanted a knot that meant forever, but most of those knots were matrimonial.   The vendor pointed out the knot for forever friendship, but Rose realized that such a knot would be incomplete without the stirrings of passion she felt for him, even though she didn’t want to press the Doctor with unrequited emotions.

“How about an eternity knot?” the vendor asked.

“Show me,” Rose said.

“It’s usually worn in religious contexts,” the vendor said. “That kind of eternity.”

The knot wove around and around itself,  looping in and out without end. It was perfect.

“Yes,” Rose said.

“What feelings do you want to bind into it?”

Rose felt her heart thud as warmth swept over her.  She was embarrassed to say out loud all the feelings she felt for the Doctor.

“Friendship, trust, joy, excitement,” Rose listed.  “Devotion.  Fidelity.”

“Love?” the vendor asked.

“Yes,” Rose nodded, feeling her heart race as she admitted it to herself.

“Passionate? or platonic?”

“Both,” Rose asserted.

“Sexual?” the vendor asked.

“That’s personal!” Rose hissed, mortified.

The vendor drew himself up with dignity.  “There is nothing more personal than Voluntying.  You have to be perfectly honest, or the knot is worthless.”

“Platonic and Passionate,” Rose insisted.  “And yes. Sexual.”

The vendor nodded, picking out colors and feeding them into his computerized loom.  “Excitement — electric green. Joy — hot magenta.  Trust — royal blue.  Friendship — yellow. Devotion — violet red.  Fidelity — true blue.  Platonic love — cherry red.  Passionate love — deep red.  Sexual love — blood red.”

“It’ll probably take you a while,” Rose said.

“Not really,” the vendor said.  He pressed the button on the loom, the ribbons fed through, and when he opened the hatch, a beautiful, perfectly woven eternity knot lay inside.

“Wow,” Rose said.

“Now what color do you want for the binding?”

Jack had explained that the binding color was meant to represent the deepest feelings the giver had for the recipient.

“Violet red,” Rose said, but had to add, “deep red as well.”

“Well done,” the vendor said.  “It’s not always easy.” He attached the bindings and Rose put the ribbon in her pocket.

She made her way back to the Doctor, who was watching Jack dance with various smiling, laughing partners.

“He’d rather be dancing with you,” the Doctor said.

“I’d rather be dancing with you,” Rose countered.

“You’ve got an obsession,” the Doctor accused.

“Why do you think that is?” Rose asked.

“Go dance with Jack,” the Doctor ordered, but gently, so Rose did as she was told.

“Too high and mighty, is he?” Jack said, guiding Rose gracefully through the steps of a reasonably simple slot dance.

“I just don’t even know,” Rose sighed.

Jack and Rose danced the night away.  Jack was a lovely partner, a great dancer, good teacher, and always sat Rose down when she needed a breather.

Midnight neared.  The Doctor still had not danced.  At one point he’d been spotted near the ribbon vendor.

“Don’t look,” Jack said, “it’s not polite.”

Rose laughed but averted her eyes.  “Rusty brown for ape, creamsicle for ‘for a human,’ tied in a square knot for tolerance.”

“With a binding of caution tape mauve for not wandering off,” Jack reminded her.

They laughed.  It really was fun dancing with Jack.  He was sweet, and funny, and of course, he was easy on the eyes.

Finally the clock struck midnight.

Rose drew out the ribbon she’d bought for Jack, and tied it around his left forearm.

“Thanks, Jack, for being a wonderful friend,” she said.

“Back at you, Rose,” he said, tying a rose to her arm as well.

“Periwinkle blue?” she asked.

“Forget me not,” Jack said.

“I could never forget you, Jack,” Rose said, and hugged him tight.

“Now let’s go embarrass the Doctor,” Jack said.

Jack seized the Doctor’s wrist and tied his ribbon before the Doctor could object.  Fidelity, trust, obedience, devotion — and deep red passion.  Rose didn’t understand the knot, but the Doctor flushed when Jack whispered in his ear.

“The soft yellow green is for rebirth,” Jack said, pulling back.  “I owe you, Doctor, and I won’t forget that.”

The Doctor laid a hand on Jack’s shoulder.  “I’m glad we found you, lad.” He reached into his own pocket and pulled out a ribbon: royal blue and cherry red, tied in a double rose of friendship.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Jack said, and kissed the Doctor gently on the lips.   “I’ll see you both in the morning, okay? I love you.”

Rose hugged him goodnight and stayed with the Doctor as their friend went off with a pair of women he’d danced with earlier.

“Ah, Jack,” the Doctor said, shaking his head.

“I’m so glad you let him stay on board,” Rose said.

“I am too,” the Doctor said, in all seriousness.

Rose reached out and captured the Doctor’s arm, and tied her ribbon onto it.  The complex knot was almost as wide as the Doctor’s wrist,  detailed and full of colors.  The Doctor, of course, comprehended its message in less than one of Rose’s heartbeats.

His eyes very solemn, he pulled out the ribbons he’d knotted for Rose: an orchid knot of passion, woven of golden ribbons, white and many hues of red.

The Doctor tied the beautiful knot around Rose’s wrist, while she struggled not to cry.  Gold — the color of highest regard, a color usually reserved for blood bonds or long standing partnerships.

Most important of all was the rainbow ribbon of namaste he used to bind the knot to Rose’s wrist.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance?” the Doctor asked.

Wordlessly, Rose followed the Doctor to the floor.  A slower song was playing, but truthfully, Rose could hardly hear it.  Her senses were attuned to the Doctor as she swayed in his arms, alive to his every move.

He watched her intently, leading the dance, and finally, lowered his sweet lips to hers.

Softly he breathed against her, his lips just barely caressing hers.  His strong arms held her, his hips swayed against hers, and as the moment deepened, his mouth came to life upon her own, testing her, tasting, waking her, awakening, until she knew his passion was as strong as hers.

“Doctor, thank you for dancing with me tonight,” Rose whispered as the song came to an end.

“Are you ready to go back to the Tardis?” he rumbled.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“So am I,” he said.

As they let themselves through the familiar blue doors a short while later the Doctor said, “This idea was not half bad.  Voluntying Day.  I like it.”

“Me, too,” Rose said, and smiled until he kissed her, and kissed him until they wanted more.  



End file.
